Broken Bridges
by 16DarkMidnight80
Summary: When something is broken and put back together, it's the same, but not quite as structurally sound as it was before. That is what trust is. And for one member of the BAU, those pieces of trust were crushed to dust. How can you help someone trust again if you can't make it back into what it was first? Rated T just to be safe. From Lauren on, but does go somewhat AU.


_It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. Time – the mind, protecting its sanity – covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone. ~ Rose Kennedy_

… … … …

SSA Derek Morgan had seen his best friend, partner, _dying_ right in front of him. He had seen the blood drain from her horrific wounds, her eyes loosing their beautiful luster, her skin just a little cooler than it was when he fell to her side. He had whispered, begged, _prayed_ for her not to leave, to stay strong because help was on the way. But she did slip away, like a handful of water, because no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it, _her_, it made its way out of his hands, and he couldn't recapture it.

He took SSA Emily Prentiss's death incredibly hard. In the nights following her death, the nightmares kept him awake. They frightened him, made him cry over and over, made him wish to switch places with friend. After the funeral, where he was one of the pallbearers, standing stoically in the cemetery, the nightmares were only made worse. He couldn't get there fast enough to stop the wood, wasn't able to save his partner. But they were not the only ones that haunted him, keeping him awake at night.

Among those where he was unable to save his best friend were the nightmares of his beloved father's death, his failure at not being there for Reid when he was taken prisoner and tortured, the cruelty he had suffered at the hands of Carl Buford, and all the victims he couldn't get to in time. Within a couple of sleepless weeks, the nightmares had blended together, forming numerous terrors that were more frightening than the last. It didn't matter if he drank his troubles away, which only made him feel worse during and after, beat his frustrations away on a punching bag, or tried to reflect on the good times. Nothing worked. All he was reminded of was how he didn't reach out for help when he was a kid, how he watched his father die right in front of him at a young age, how he failed his little brother, how he failed to help those in need, and how he failed his partner.

That is, until the day he saw his best friend, someone he confided in more than even Garcia, walked back into his life.

That was the moment his entire world stopped, and the functional part in the deepest recesses of his brain noted that the feeling of time stopping was entirely too common in his life.

In those few moments when Prentiss walked back in, and tried to explain everything in all of a few minutes, he couldn't function. His arms were numb when he hugged her back, but it was nothing more than dead weight. There was nothing in him. He only sprang back in action to save the life of an innocent boy, and he didn't care if Ian Doyle died. He was the one who made everything come back with a vengeance.

After they got Declan back, safe and sound, it seemed like everyone was trying to get things back to the way they were before. Reid gave Prentiss and JJ the cold shoulder, and gave Hotch lip, but they could at least see that he was angry. _That_ they could do something about, try to make amends. However, no one knows how to fix a bridge when they don't know it's broken.

Morgan could put on a façade, could fool even as great as profilers as his team. He had perfected the face when he was a teenager, under the…ministrations of Buford. He knew how to make people believe what they saw, how not to dig deeper, and if they did, they would only find more layers of the lie he put forth.

Just because someone near and dear to someone else comes back from the dead does not mean all is resolved by their mere presence. He had been starting to come to terms with the horrific idea that he would never see his partner again, just like he would never see his father again. He had been grieving in his own way, even if he was still unable to get a decent night's sleep. Even if he was still having those horrible nightmares, only worsened by the fact that his best friend was alive. Even if he _should have been_ overjoyed that his partner was alive.

It only made things worse.

However, like the man he was, he hid everything from his teammates, his partner, his second family.

It took months, but his partner, the one he thought had lost to wherever his father had gone, began to notice differences, slight as they were. He no longer flirted or flirted as often with her. There were no more casual arms around her shoulders, hugs, or any other form of physical touch. He no longer talked to her.

Reid had come around eventually, returning to how things were _before_, and that made her happy. However, as she asked around subtly, she noticed that Morgan had retreated from the entire team. Surprisingly, the only person who wasn't trained in profiling understood what she was getting after right away.

"He doesn't talk to me anymore," was the first thing out of her trembling mouth, and the technical analyst watched her screens for a minute more before finally turning around. Prentiss was perched on the table behind her, closer to the door, arms supporting her weight on the surface. "He doesn't talk to anyone."

"But why? I explained my reasons, why we did what we did. Even Reid has come around."

"Honey, you know him better than me," the other woman sighed, looking right into the eyes of one of her best friends. "I heard Hotch tell Strauss a long time ago that there are very few people he trusts. I don't think he trusts anyone anymore." Prentiss cast her gaze to the floor, not able to look into the eyes of Garcia.

"I did this, didn't I?" she mumbled sadly.

"I think we all did." Confused, she looked up again, eyebrow cocked, brow furrowed. "Oh, dearie, I think we all broke his trust in someway when you…left."

"I just…I didn't think he took it that _hard_. He was always so…"

"Yeah," Garcia agreed with the unspoken words as she trailed off. "But we were so wrapped up in our own grief over loosing you that we didn't bother to see how he handled it."

"It wasn't your fault," Prentiss said reflexively, even if she meant the words she spoke. But the blonde shook her head in a depressed manner, a sigh escaping her cherry red lips.

"No, my love, it is. I can't even imagine the horrors he was reliving. He told me when I asked him why he looked so tired was that he was fine. I should've seen through the lie." The two conversed for a while longer before the brunette left, seeking out the one who puzzled her so. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the bullpen, his office, or in Hotch or Rossi's. When she stuck her head into Rossi's office, he told her that Morgan was advising a local police office and wouldn't be back until the next day. It struck the agent that it was Friday, and they had the weekend off, baring a case needing immediate attention from the team.

Over the weekend, thankfully there were no cases, she tried to get into contact with her partner. But he refused to answer her calls, didn't respond to her texts, and whenever she drove over, he wasn't there. She had no idea where his properties were, and Clooney always went with him to fix up the houses. So, she worried and wrung her hands, Sergio always next to her as she tried to relax. She didn't think she had ever been as excited or nervous for a Monday in her entire life.

She saw his motorcycle in the underground parking lot when she arrived, and pulled up next to it, just like always. Instead of dropping herself at her desk when she got to the bullpen, she laid her case on the surface and tossed her go-bag underneath, her feet making her trip to Morgan's office quick. He looked up with a blank face when she knocked and entered.

"Yes?" he asked, his tone containing false curiosity and lightness. It was the same one he had been using with her the entire time since she had returned.

"Talk to me," she said, standing behind one of the guest chairs, her arms crossed as she glared into his eyes. Still, he was unfazed, leaning back in his chair with pseudo relaxation.

"What do you mean?" If Prentiss didn't know her partner better, she would've been fooled by his question, but she knew he understood what she asked. Her glare became more piercing, her mouth twisted into an angry scowl.

"What do I mean? I mean you acting all…fake!" was her growled response. She probably shouldn't have been so angry in her demands, should've taken the time to explain everything in a calm, even tone. Because it was only natural for a person to become angry when yelled at for what they thought was no good reason. However, this didn't occur to the brunette agent. So when Morgan's face twisted in irritation, it served to infuriate Prentiss even more.

"I've been acting fake?" he half-shouted, standing from behind his desk, his hands slammed flat on the desktop. "What about you, Prentiss? Things can't go back to how they were before! So stop acting like everything is better now that you're back!" Those words struck a cord deep in her heart, because she could deny that everything _could_ go back to how it was, but she knew it couldn't and never would. Still, she wasn't about to break her reputation of not backing down from a fight.

"Yes, they can! And they are! Except you!" With aching slowness, Morgan sat back down, and it shocked Prentiss how _old_ her partner looked. It was like all of his troubles from his entire life hit at that exact moment, making the agent look an age older.

"No, it won't," he said, his voice again quiet and detached. He rubbed his eyes warily for a minute before casting his gaze back to the one person he thought he could trust wholly. At that moment, she saw how shattered his trust was in people, in _her_. It would be amazing if he ever trusted her again. "When you left, I thought you were gone forever. Death is something I can cope with. But when you came back…" he trailed off, trying to find the appropriate words, but Prentiss misinterpreted the silence for him wishing she didn't return.

"So…what? You want me to leave again?" she angrily questioned, her crossed arms tightening across her chest. Chocolate brown eyes slowly met her own, a plea for understanding in them, and the fire within her banked a little.

"No." He sounded _so tired_. "There's just a lot of…unresolved issues."

"Reid forgave us. Why can't you? Did we break the trust you have in us?" He rubbed a hand over his bald head, a weary sigh escaping him.

"How can you break something that wasn't even complete?" he asked, and it caused Prentiss to gasp just a little, though it was more of a small, quick intake of air than a full gasp.

"Did…did you _ever_ trust us?"

"To some extent," he shrugged, slumping in his chair. "You…I did." Her heart broke in two, if that was even _possible_ at this point.

"Morgan…" she began, but was cut off by his shaking head and hand conveying her to stop. Before he could say what was on his mind, both of their phones buzzed.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Morgan grumbled exhaustedly, looking at his phone. "We got a case." He stood and walked out of the office, leaving Prentiss behind. That moment cemented for her how far her best friend had fallen. She knew he had lost his father, but it didn't occur to her until that moment that he had seen his dad die right in front of him when he was little. Her 'death' probably brought those memories to the forefront of his mind.

With a heavy sigh, Prentiss left the office, following in the wake of the partner who didn't trust her any more. She could understand his anger and lack of trust at her, Hotch, and JJ, but how could he not trust Garcia, Reid, or Rossi? They had been in the dark same as himself.

The air in the room was the same as it always was: a little gloomy, but radiating readiness. Everyone sat in their spots, Garcia standing at the screen, and Prentiss sat in her seat between Hotch and Morgan. She noted that Morgan would've made a great actor, should his life have taken a different turn, because he was that good at schooling his expressions. If she wasn't as observant and possessing a hint of knowledge at how he was feeling, she wouldn't have noticed anything different in his demeanor.

The case was finished almost as soon as they landed, and it had to be a record of some sort. Morgan had acted professional as ever, but that was all he was. He didn't joke, didn't tease, and didn't flirt. He helped chase down the unsub, interrogate him, and was back to his same old detached self, something that had, unfortunately, become a staple in the months that passed. And so, when they landed back in Quantico and everyone went home, even Hotch, Prentiss caught up with Morgan in his office again. He was finishing some reports, having bullied their team leader into going home and spending time with his son.

"We never finished our discussion," Prentiss announced, and the man sitting behind the desk, head bowed and hand writing, didn't flinch or start at her intrusion.

"What else is there to talk about?" he asked, not looking up from the report he wrote. It angered the brunette, not getting her partner's full attention, but she didn't dare expound on that just yet.

"A whole lot. Morgan, why can't you just _talk to me_?" That got a physical response out of him, his chocolate brown gaze meeting her own. "Why haven't you ever trusted us?" she started off.

"Why do you want to know?" She huffed, glaring at him as she sunk into a visitor chair, leaning on the desk with her forearms.

"Answer me." Sensing he wasn't going to be able to get her to leave anytime soon, he gently tossed the pen onto the desktop, leaning in his chair, intentionally or not putting distance between the two of them.

"Trust is earned, not given." Prentiss mulled this over for a moment, tagging it as _very important_ in her mind, but pushed forward.

"Okay, so how can I earn that trust back?" Morgan sighed, and again it hit the woman of how well he was doing, holding back the stress, the pain, and the anger, because now he looked like he could be well into his fifties. There was a knife in his heart, but she didn't know that she was twisting it by coming back to try and _talk_.

"Prentiss…Emily…" That would have gotten her full attention if it hadn't already been on him. "You can't just ask me that question and expect me to be able to answer it. I don't know how, but maybe, someday you can get that trust from me."

"And how are we going to be partners in the field if you don't trust me?" It was a fair point she made, and she knew he knew that, too.

"I have confidence you'll have my back, and I'll have yours. But if you run off and get yourself killed, that'll just be idiotic," he ended with a growl. The dam was starting to break, Prentiss could see it. It was just a matter of poking and prodding until it burst. What she didn't know, however, was how deep the still waters ran, and it scared her a bit.

"Morgan, have you been sleeping?"

"Yes," was his quick, honest answer, but dark eyes narrowed at the man.

"How much?" There was a momentary pause, something even a basic profiler could see. The decision to lie or tell the truth. It _almost_ felt like an interrogation, but Prentiss shook the idea from her head before it had time to grow roots and implant itself.

"Enough," he answered evasively, irritating Prentiss. When she repeated the query, with a little more venom than was called for, it put Morgan on the defensive. Rookie mistake. "Prentiss, because you're my friend, I'm going to ask for you to stay out of this." The words, although merely spoken into open air, slammed into Prentiss like a brick wall, sending her back to that case with the cab driver who listened to recordings of himself.

"You can talk to me. Please, don't shut me out."

"Isn't that what you did?" How could he hurt her so much with invisible words? "I tried to help you, tried to figure out what was wrong, but I know when to back off. Why didn't you come to us for help? We would've done _anything_ to make sure you were safe!"

"I couldn't risk you guys getting hurt!" she nearly shouted, standing up so violently, the chair toppled backwards and onto the floor with a loud clatter. "You didn't know what Ian was capable of. You guys are my family. I had to protect you. Do you have any idea of what I went through?"

"Yeah, I do," he said softly, still tense in his chair. Prentiss almost sat down again before remembering to pick up the chair and right it. "I went undercover, too, before the BAU. I know what it's like to fake your own death. Except you got the sweet knowledge of knowing we were okay, somewhat. I didn't. I lost a lot of good friends. Don't tell me about what you went through, and that it was so much harder for you than for us. I've been there, done that!"

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" _Tell me?_ She was stunned beyond belief at the revelation and the raw _agony_ she witnessed behind his brown eyes. Morgan slumped, seemingly tired and wore out. It _almost_ made her feel guilty.

"It was bad enough with you guys knowing about Buford. I have secrets of my own, Emily, just as you do. We all have skeletons in our closets, and sometimes, it's best to just leave them be." Suddenly, he stood, and she saw the mask sliding into place. "Look, we've had a long week, and we both need sleep. We have work in the morning." He packed up his desk like his partner wasn't there, slipping files and papers into his brief case before grabbing his jacket. Prentiss numbly followed him out and to her own desk to collect her things, before meeting him in the elevator.

The ride was painfully quiet and awkward, and it saddened the female agent that her best friend was now a total stranger, more at odds with her than when they first had met. Morgan strapped his brief case and go bag to his bike before putting on his helmet. Prentiss got into her car, carelessly tossing her own things to the passenger seat, and as she started up her vehicle, she watched Morgan rev the engine and gun it out of the parking garage. With a sigh, she followed at a more sedate pace, turning the opposite way to go to her apartment.

Her mind was awhirl with her current problem: Morgan's lack of trust in her and the team. Sadly, there was only a single answer that came to her mind, and it was the one she liked the least.

There was absolutely nothing she could do.

_How could I have missed this?_ she continued to ask herself, hitting the steering wheel more than once. _How did we all miss it?_

… … …

As the days passed, everything was the same as it had been since Prentiss had gotten back from hiding. Reid showed off his science magic, Garcia brightened their lives with her perky self, and JJ made sure everyone was still running despite the horrific cases. Hotch was their strict but caring boss, Rossi walked around in his Italian leather shoes, and Morgan shut himself in his office unless there was a case. And it was all painfully obvious how much he now avoided them.

"Emily?" JJ asked one day, waving the brunette to follow once her gaze landed on her friend. They went into JJ's office, and said owner of the space shut the door with a finality that had Prentiss tightening up in the shoulders. "What's going on between you and Morgan?"

Prentiss wanted to tell JJ so much that it physically hurt, the pain blooming up behind her breastbone. However, like in the past, she didn't tell the truth.

"Nothing is going on between us," she lied, but the way her friend's blue-hazel eyes narrowed, Prentiss knew she had been caught.

"Don't lie to me," only confirmed what she already knew to be true. With a heavy sigh, Prentiss sunk into a chair, JJ quickly following in the one next to her.

"I don't know what to do anymore." It needed no more explanation.

"Be there for him," JJ consoled, placing a hand onto Prentiss's folded ones, much like a sister would to a pained sister. "It's going to take time and patience to get him back to where he was before."

"He asked me how we could break something that wasn't even whole." The quick intake of air was all Prentiss needed to break off into a rant. "I don't know how he could've gone all this time without trusting us. I thought we were partners, family even! And now he goes and says that?"

"Emily," her friend broke in gently, taking her hands into her own, squeezing slightly, just enough so the pressure was felt. "I think we all needed to be more considerate of him…"

"He's a grown man! He doesn't need people to coddle him!" Why did she feel so defensive of herself all of a sudden?

"I wasn't saying he isn't." JJ was definitely the mother of the BAU team. She was their rock in the storm, the one who reminded them of the lighter things of life, even when she was being sucked into the darkness. She was an angel in all of her sweetness. "But maybe he needed to be coddled. We all went to one another afterwards, but he didn't. He kept his distance and seemed…a lot older than he is."

"I noticed as much," Prentiss mumbled. "What do I do?" Even if JJ was the mother figurehead, she wasn't one who had all the answers.

"I don't know." Both women had to swallow hard to hold back the tears that threatened to fall out of their eyes and spill down their cheeks. How do you save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

… … …

"I'm going to London," Emily told him that night in the gazebo, away from the hanging lights of JJ and Will's wedding, held in the back of Rossi's mansion. His impassive, glassy gaze never left her face, never wavered with any emotion. It was if he had seen it coming. Morgan leaned forward as she looked away for a moment.

"Why do you always do this?" His question confused her greatly, and so she turned slightly on the bench to get a little better look at him. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, and hands hanging limply down. His eyes were cast down and away, head hanging much like his strong hands.

"Do what?"

"Run away when you can't fix something." Prentiss bristled, teeth clenching along with a single hand.

"I'm not running away," she denied, catching his brown eyes as he looked upward at her.

"That's what you are doing. I just want to know why." Morgan's tone was defeated, as if he already accepted that she was going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it. Simultaneously, he angered and saddened her. How could he just accept it without a fight? Where was the man she once knew?

He died with the old Emily Prentiss.

Unable to think of any words that didn't sound like she was firmly rooted in denial, Prentiss chose not to say anything, just looked away. Morgan sighed heavily, the weight of the world, and then some, carried on that single exhale.

"I'm sorry. I hope you find everything you're looking for." He rose and walked away without a backwards glance, and Prentiss found herself fighting tears.

"You're sorry?" she called after, her grief giving way to her fury. Perhaps it was a defensive mechanism now installed in her after all she had gone through, but that didn't mean she had a right to use it. "After all I've done, you're sorry?" Morgan stopped right in his tracks, stiffening like a board. The turn was completed in two long, stretched seconds.

"All you've gone through?" he repeated, as if he couldn't believe her.

"Yes. I went through _hell_, Morgan! Why do you keep making this about you?"

"Because I know what hell is, too." No longer did he use that monotone voice with her, nor a detached tone. The strength of conflicting anger, grief, and not-quite-closed wounds startled her after months of nothing. He never raised his voice, but it was deadly steady, something she had only seen used on unsubs and dodgy suspects. "You have made your peace with your fake death, but I haven't. I haven't slept like this since my father died and Buford abused me. I wake up in cold sweats and panting like I had just sprinted a five K. Food tastes like ash in my mouth, and I can't wake up from this nightmare. I just keep seeing _everything_, playing over and over and _over_!" His chest heaved with deep breaths, and Prentiss was frozen where she stood.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Morgan's eyes lost their fire, not completely, but banked enough that his old self peeked through the fissures in his excellently crafted mask. His fists were balled tightly at his sides, his stance rigid. But to her question, he had no answer. "We could've helped you." She was certain he snorted, but she heard nothing as he looked away, into the darkness.

"You can keep gluing a vase, but it's never as structurally sounds as it was before it was ever broken. And each time it's broken and repaired, it's weaker than before."

"You're not broken," she tried, but he cut her off, still refusing to look at her.

"I'm not? Prentiss, look at me." Their eyes met in a battle of wills. "I'm about as broken as they come."

"No, you aren't. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You stood up for that boy after you found out he was being abused by Buford. You've helped so many people doing your job. You've helped us to become better people. You've always been our shoulder, so let us be yours." His shoulders fell, defeated, and for a moment, Prentiss thought she had broken through his shell.

"If I'm so strong, why can't I keep you here?" That moment fled like a frightened deer from a gunshot. Prentiss gaped, standing in the arch of the gazebo, flabbergasted. "Why can't I think of something…_anything_, to let you know that we love you and don't want you to leave? Why can't I stop having nightmares about your death? Why can't I accept that you're alive and this isn't some twisted dream?"

"Derek…" but nothing followed. They met each other in the middle, wrapping one another in strong, comforting, healing hugs that seemed to stretch for eternity. Neither one wanted that moment to end. But when they finally pulled away, something shifted between them.

"Don't go," he whispered.

"I have to," she responded in equally soft tones, leaning in close again. Her head rested on his broad shoulder, their arms enveloping one another, and his cheek was pressed lightly into the side of her head.

"Stay. We can work it out."

"I'm needed at Interpool, not here." Suddenly, she was ripped from his embrace viciously, his arms gripping her arms hard, but not enough so that it would bruise. Their chocolate brown eyes met, and it marveled the shorter agent how much Morgan seemed like his old self…before Doyle.

"You've always been needed, even when we didn't know we did. You've changed us for the better, and we all care so deeply for you. Imagine how broken Garcia will be when she can only Skype you." That pulled the tiniest of grins from the both of them, but they slipped and fell before too long.

"I'll come and visit, and you guys will, too."

"It's not the same."

"It'll have to do."

"You don't have to."

"I do."

"No. You can stay here."

"I'm going to London."

"Please…Emily."

They were both incredibly broken people. Their trust had been shattered and rebuilt, over and over, until this very moment. They had seen the worse life could offer, but they also had some dazzling times, too. However, sometimes, you have to take the broken pieces of something, and instead of building it back into what it used to be, you need to make something new.

And that's exactly what they did.

It would take time and patience, just like JJ had told Emily, but Morgan slowly began to trust his teammates again, and it helped that Prentiss stayed with the BAU. They were all elated that they would stay together, through every single moment. Their trust in one another was slowly built from their broken pieces into something stronger, more stable, and definitely more powerful than ever before.

… … …

_For every good reason there is to lie, there is a better reason to tell the truth. ~ Bo Bennet_

_I don't own Criminal Minds,_ _unfortunately_. _This is not beta-ed.__ I hope you enjoyed this and please leave your comments below. Thank you, and have a great day, all!_


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